


A Song for the Sewers

by Sailing the Malky Way (Fan_by_Proxy)



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M, Nosferatu Lacroix - Freeform, Nosferatu VV, Slight Voyeurism, phantom of the opera elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Sailing%20the%20Malky%20Way
Summary: For the Cainites of LA Discord server challenge: Lacroix, but as a Nosferatu! And of course, there's cross-clan romancewith a Toreador to boot.[And it's not just Lacroix getting a clan swap; VV and Gary swap clans AND places because why not?]
Relationships: Sebastian LaCroix/Original Female Character(s), Sebastian LaCroix/Original Toreador Character(s), Sebastian Lacroix & Gary Golden
Comments: 26
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Many Clans of Sebastian Lacroix





	1. Motels and No-Tells

“Sebastian, sweetheart, you’re _fidgeting_.” VV purred, reaching out and flicking his hand away. “Stop it.”

He sighed and flexed his fingers to try and resist the urge to scratch at his scalp; with a lot of wig-tape and Velvet’s careful assistance, the _Executive_ blonde wig sat relatively neat in spite of the shape of his skull and the angle of his ears. There was a reason most Nosferatu gave up trying to have hair at one point; even Velvet generally forewent hair, preferring instead a stylish hat or (as was the case tonight) a heavy dusting of shimmery body powder. In spite of the changes that came with being made Nosferatu--or perhaps _because of_ those changes--Velvet dressed for glamour _and_ to emphasize her state of being. Sebastian admired her brassiness, her brazen and unapologetic directness; once he’d shared it, but Turning had done more to his ego than it had hers (or so he thought). “Just irritated, Mme. Velour, that’s all.”

VV smirked. “ _Relax_ ; it’s just another fly-by-night princeling! He’ll be gone inside of three months. I’d even bet money on it.”

Sebastian shook his head, stifling a chuckle. “You sound confident.” he said wryly. “Not that I doubt you, I’m not _that_ big a fool.”

She chuckled, low and throaty. “Of _course_ I do, Sebastian…that’s part of the job description. Just like being here, instead of… _literally_ anywhere else, in spite of there being so many _better_ place to be.”

He shook his head, unable to fully shake the bemused smile. “You’re not wrong, but it’s more the ‘being shunted in the service entrance’ part that makes me itch.” Sebastian confessed. That was the thing about the Nosferatu Primogen: she was easy to talk to.

“ _Oh_ , Sebastian…” VV sighed, putting a hand on his back lightly. The not-that-much-younger Nos was tender, having developed more of the clan’s hawk-like hunch and broad upper body to match. “Remember _not_ to take it personal; they can shunt us, and they can punt us, but _we’re_ the ones who know. And they need what we know: that’s how we bargain.” she said, rubbing his back lightly, soothing.

Sebastian sighed. “I know. It just _irks_ me, and I’m irked for you. The new boy doesn’t know me, but _you_ especially deserve more respect.” he said, aggravated but sincere; Velvet was a lady _and_ the clan’s Primogen--that should’ve warranted a more respectful summons and faster greeting, rather than leaving the pair of them hidden in an alcove to wait to be remembered.

VV smirked. “Don’t worry sweetheart, VV knows how to spite her own battles.” she said affectionately, winking.

As Sebastian shook his head, an unfamiliar woman poked her head out of the Prince’s office. She had red-hair, mismatched eyes, and the vaguely unsettling aura of a Malkavian. “Apologies.” she said curtly. “Come now?”

The pair of Nosferatu shared a subtle look that was a whole unspoken conversation in and of itself. Because it was the first meeting with the new Prince and whatever staff he’d dragged along to LA, the smart thing to do was withhold judgement just a _little_ bit longer. Sebastian fell into step behind Velvet, taking a deep breath and pulling the notebook and fountain pen out of his coat’s inner pocket. It was a bit overt and old-fashioned, but there was a point to be made to the new Prince. The Nosferatu were loyal to the Camarilla, generally; if the newcomer wanted a part of that loyalty, he’d have to tread lightly and be ready to bargain…and show a little more respect for their time and Velvet’s status. That was just good business, after all.

***

“Well, what do you think?” Velvet purred as they made their way back towards the Warrens after leaving the gaudy office in the gaudier building.

“Seems like a real fat head*.” Sebastian said drily. “Not to mention the part about putting a watch on Willis. Isaac won’t like it.” he added.

“No, he certainly won’t.” Velvet chuckled. “What’s the line, Sebastian? ‘Something rotten in the state of Bismark’?”

“Denmark.” he replied. “You heard it too?” The ‘it’ being the ring of lies and hollow thrum of a set-up; the new guy had only been in LA for a short amount of time, but he seemed to be trying to weave a bigger plan for the state than just pushing back the problems and the Anarchs. It wasn’t a _surprise_ , coming from a Ventrue. But there’d been a gleam in the new Prince’s eyes that spelled trouble with a capital ‘Terrible’.

“ _If_ Willis were making plays, we’d have heard _something_ \--if not from the Network, then _certainly_ from Gary’s golden lips.” she chuckled. “I think I _might_ go visit ‘Cleopatra’s’ and strike up a friendly conversation. Will you be my eyes and ears on this?”

Sebastian nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be nothing; Willis is a lot of things, but he’s too much of a goody-goody to act out. Isaac would kill him, for one thing.” he snorted as the pair came to an intersection. If he was going to go join the watch party, he’d have to veer away from Velvet now.

“That _might_ be a reason for him to act out.” VV pointed out. “You know every few years, he gets a little too big for his britches and Isaac has to slap him down...maybe Willis has just decided to jump ship and go corporate.” she chuckled. “Wouldn’t _that_ be something?”

“If he is, Gary would know. I’m off this way, I’ll call you if something interesting happens.” Sebastian said, gesturing down the intersection.

VV nodded, reaching out and carefully teasing the part of the wig with one nail. “There, back in the right place. Take care, and call me even if it’s dull. I want to know what the Prince is so keen to know.” she said firmly.

Sebastian nodded, then turned to the left and headed towards the intersection that would put him with the rest of the watch team, making sure his notes were safely tucked away and his phone secure. If nothing else, he’d catch a breath above ground and it might even be a nice one.

***

And _that_ was how he wound up in a trash-filled alley across from a no-tell-motel that could give you bedbugs just _looking_ at the sign, watching through binoculars while another pair of Camarilla minions cracked jokes behind him. Sebastian felt like an irredeemable pervert as he watched the brunette’s blissful face and elegant body cavort with Willis; he was torn between the more appropriate disgust at beautiful-people-doing-ugly-things-beautifully, and pure, unadulterated _longing_ to be the one receiving those kisses and reveling in her caresses. It was a new, pathetic low. The upside of watching through binoculars was that there was no sound. He didn’t have to ruin the fantasy ideal of her voice.

The _downside_ was knowing what her scream would _look_ like, even without actually hearing it. The Beast in his chest reared up as that asshole Willis bared fangs and clamped down on the girl’s neck with a violence that was (in Sebastian’s desirous and professional opinion) _incredibly unnecessary_! “He’s made the contact.” Sebastian rasped, throat tight.

“Finally! Thought he was going to fuck the slut into the sunrise.” one of the others--possibly the Gangrel--snorted from behind.

The lens of the binocular cracked as Sebastian’s hand convulsively squeezed. “What’s wrong Pup, mad you’d have to pay four times the rate for a girl that pretty _and clean_?” He snapped.

“Listen here you fuckin’ little vulture--” the Gangrel snapped, shoving Sebastian hard and sending the Nos sprawling onto the wet ground; the binoculars were further damaged as they skidded from his grasp. Not that that mattered to the Gangrel, who then rolled Sebastian onto his bent back and raised a fist, ready to pound his face.

Sebastian hissed, lashing out immediately as pain ran up and down his twisting spine. He caught the Gangrel across the face, making four deep furrows across the cheek that didn’t close up immediately.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake you two, knock it off!” the third watcher snapped, stomping to pick up the binoculars. “I mean it.” he said quietly.

Sebastian felt a huge pressure behind his forehead and in his chest; _this_ was why he hated being around Ventrue. They always went right to _dominating_ , especially on the ‘Grotesque Three’ (the Gangrel, the Nosferatu, and the Brujah). Being forced to lie in an alley, in garbage juice, in the starfish position, only made his mood worse. At least the Gangrel had been forced to squat _away_ from him.

The Ventrue shook his head. “ _Shit_ \--we missed the Kiss. But there’s blood on her mouth and he’s…” the Ventrue trailed off. “Well never mind. Point is, we’re moving.” he snapped, dropping the busted binoculars on Sebastian’s chest and letting him up.

At least he would be able to take out the frustration at his now-ruined suit on the motel door, after a quick scurry across the street to avoid the Masquerade.

Sebastian threw himself into the door, shouldering it open easily. As his nails dug into the crappy, grimy carpet for traction, he made eye contact with the poor girl in the bed. She was unfocused and chalk-white, hair in absolute disarray. He swallowed as he met her unseeing eyes; they were dark as the night and framed by stunning, long lashes that weren’t coming away as _the Change_ happened--she _would_ have to have Liz Taylor lashes! Sebastian swallowed as the Ventrue strolled past coldly and planted a stake in the girl; again, with more violence than necessary.

“Ugh, _disgusting_. Pick her up and let’s get them to the theater before I catch something in here.” the Ventrue sniffed, wiping his hands on a wet-nap and dropping it on the staked girl. Willis was already over the Gangrel’s shoulder; obviously that order was for Sebastian.

The bewigged Nosferatu approached the bed carefully; there would be no putting the girl over his shoulder like a regular cinema monster. “I’m so sorry.” he whispered, brushing hair out of her face with the back of his hand. A curl wrapped around his nail, catching the light of the crappy lamp and showing strands of gold among the warm, nutty brown color. Sebastian swallowed, very carefully freeing his finger to avoid pulling even a single strand from her head. He debated swaddling her in at least the sheet from the bed…but the room was _disgusting_. Sebastian rather thought even his damp jacket _had_ to be better then anything in that room. Shrugging out of it, Sebastian made a discontented noise to find the fall had caused his shirt to tear at the shoulders again; he’d have to get Gigi to add more ease across the back. He’d also have to make sure the Gangrel’s browsers were all hit with a content filter even more ridiculous than the ones laid on public school computers, for at least a month… _just_ to teach him a lesson.

Sebastian did his best to be gentle as he eased the girl’s arms into the sleeves and pulled the lapels to overlap, to afford her even a touch of dignity, even with a stake in her chest. She was solid and cold in his grip, and his heart sank. If she had died from the Embrace, or the stake, she would be a problem for Kine; a beautiful corpse and life taken too soon. But now, as she was…she was _their_ problem, and if the new Prince of LA decided to follow Camarilla law _to the letter_ …well, she would be another cold case with no closure for the ones she’d left behind.

He pitied the girl for that most-likely reality, as he cradled her in his arms. But there was nothing he could do; the Embrace was illegal and the consequences had to be paid, even by the innocent. _Especially_ by the innocent, because Sebastian strongly doubted Willis had been honest with the girl about what would happen that night…he didn’t have a _great_ relationship with honesty, after all.

*** 

The staked pair would be kept in the basement of the Nocturne for the girl to finish changing, before the Prince called for a trial. As soon as Sebastian had settled the girl among the abandoned costumes and set pieces, and he was confident no one was paying him any mind, he texted Vevlet.

****Illegal Kiss. Trial in two days most likely** **

There wasn’t a response back, but he was confident Velvet would see it before he made his way back to his books in the Warrens. Velvet saw everything, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fat-head: 40s slang for a fool


	2. Incredibly Important Warrens Business

VV sat at the sturdy mahogany desk, shaping and dressing her nails as Sebastian went over the numbers for the Warrens for the previous month, occasionally making agreeable noises as the eternal accountant fretted.

“Velvet, I’m _serious_ ,” Sebastian scolded, “the wholesaler’s screwing us, we need to find a new one.”

“I _heard_ you, sweetheart.” VV replied, carefully laying nail vinyls across her thumb. The upside of the clan’s vicious nails was that there was _plenty_ of real estate to decorate when the mood struck. “Have Bertie put his ear to the ground, if he can pull it off Voerman’s bosom long enough, yeah?”

Sebastian snorted and shook his head, watching as the glamorous Nos began to daub more nail paint. “Yes Mme. Van Gogh.” he teased.

“Oh it’s not _that_ involved, sweetheart. Just a few hearts and some glitter, simple stuff, really.” VV paused in her application to throw him a wink, then dipped her sponge into the puddle of nail polish on the small saucer to continue. “Speaking of simple, remember the redhead at the prince’s office?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Vaguely, why?”

“Well you can stop begrudging her manners,” VV replied firmly, “poor thing’s _Malkavian_. Apparently has some trouble getting the words out in a way that makes sense.”

Sebastian frowned. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Mmm-hm, we wound up hunkering down together during that little dust-up after the trial.” VV blew on her nail out of habit. “She’s actually pretty friendly, when things are quiet.”

He squinted hard at the Primogen. “Wherever you’re going with this, Velvet, I’m sure I won’t like; but get there anyway so we can go on.”

“I’m not going _anywhere_ , Sebastian. Just making an…observation on at least one person the new boy keeps on retainer. There’s a secret there, for certain; _but_ the main point was to let you know she might be alright. She at least was quite nice after the gunfire stopped.”

Sebastian made a non-comittal noise as the door to Velvet’s suite opened and a grinning ghoul poked his head in.

“ _Hey_ , Gorgeous, Seb--can I interrupt a sec?” Mercurio asked, half-stepping into the room; as usual, he was dressed in a suit that was stylish a few decades ago with a wide lapel and wingspan collar. It should’ve been a joke, an oddity, but he wore it with brazen confidence and unapologetic cheer, so it worked.

“It’s just finances, handsome, come on in.” VV said as she started to peel the vinyls away. “How’s your manicure?”

“Cuticles are a little rough, but I gotta forgo a manicure. Cut my knuckle on the fence by Brother’s Salvage, and I learned my lesson last time.” Mercurio replied. “And it’s just a message for you, Seb--Nicky just passed it to me on my way in.”

Sebastian frowned. “What is it?”

“Came in on the dead line about twenty minutes ago, maybe?” Mercurio shrugged and sat down on the overstuffed footstool near Sebastian. “Gal wants to set up a meeting with you to give you back your jacket?” he reported, eyebrow up. “Says her name’s Genevieve. You ah…you makin’ friends there, boss?” Mercurio teased.

VV snorted, moving to the next nail. “Anything else to the message, handsome?”

“Nicky says it came in on the number the new girl got--you know, the one who nearly…” Mercurio drew a line across his throat. “Anyway, she got the tip on how to call the dead line from one of the Prince’s people. A Sissy, or somethin?”

“ _Oh_ …” Sebastian breathed.

“Circe,” VV corrected, “I told her how; I owed her a little favor.” she explained.

“Oh yeah? I heard it got hairy at the theater the other night, that have to do with it?” Mercurio scratched at a dry patch on his neck.

“That’s it. She gave me some cover during _that_ debacle. We’re supposed to have a drink together in a few nights, after she finishes getting settled into her new place.” VV started to daub the next color on. “Have you run into her yet?”

“Nah, Knox and me got stopped at the desk going up. I haven’t even _seen_ the new guy.” Mercurio replied with a snort. “Anyway boss, you want me to set up a pickup for your jacket?”

Sebastian shook his head. “I’ll handle it. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just time to switch fabric softeners again.” Mercurio replied airily. That was a side-effect of getting his fix; some of the clan’s problems became _his_ problems. The rush was worth it though!

“Take care.” Sebastian said immediately.

“Sebastian, go into the top drawer of my vanity and get that tube of cortisone, my nails are too wet.” VV waved a hand at Sebastian to get his attention.

He obeyed promptly, slipping into the perfumed inner chamber and went straight to the grand white vanity; it took a light hand to open the slightly warped drawer without sending the bottles of perfume and makeup tools scattering. They’d have to have something done about it again!

Mercurio took the tube from Sebastian gratefully when he returned. “Thanks boss--Gorgeous.” he added, inclining his head to VV.

“Don’t worry about it. _Oh_ \--while you’re here: apparently our wholesaler’s been a _naughty_ boy. I want you and Knox to go have a conversation with him, and then let Bertie know we’ll need a new one. Just make sure Knox doesn’t get ahead of the conversation again.” she warned.

The ghoul nodded, daubing the patch on his neck and wincing. He’d scratched at it too hard, and the cortisone stung. “Got it. I was headed topside to catch up to him anyway, you want us to try and take care of that tonight?”

“If it’s not too much, I know Knox has _other_ things to look after right now. _But_ if you can’t get to it tonight, try to do it before the week’s out, alright?” she said warmly.

Mercurio nodded eagerly. “You got it. Now boss, about your jacket?”

“Don’t worry about it. I can set up my own hand-off…she’s just a frightened fledgling, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Sebastian replied drily with a bravado that didn’t reach much deeper than the skin’s surface. The fledgling’s prettiness and the unfairness of the situation had come together in a way that was hard to ignore.

“Alright.” The ghoul shrugged, leaning over to set the tube of ointment on the desk. “You need anything from upstairs?” he asked.

“Hit a drugstore and bring me back another couple of bottles of Revlon’s ‘Ruby Red’, would you? I’m almost out.” VV said as she studied the effect on her nails so far.

“You got it.” Mercurio replied cheerfully as he stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of his pants. “How about you, boss? Still good on aftershave?”

“Hm? Oh--yes, fine.” Sebastian said distractedly. “Wait--more legal pads.” he said before his ghoul slipped out the door.

Mercurio flashed a thumbs up before slipping away.

“Where will you set up your little rendezvous?” VV asked.

“The alley near Isaac’s. Not too far from me, and she’ll probably know at least where his shop is; he may as well be the rosey-Prim.” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

VV snorted. “As if he’d put in the effort; there’s no paycheck for this position and he’s got to have income for the gallons of Brüt he bathes in.” she sniped.

Sebastian chuckled. “Still, that’s the closest hub for the prisses. It’ll be an easy, quick pick-up-- _oh damn!”_ he interrupted himself. “I tore a seam during the pick-up, I should’ve had Mercurio find something for Gigi.”

“Tell her to put it on my tab.” VV replied.

He shook his head. “It’s not just the seam, I need the back…” Sebastian gestured vaguely. “She’ll know what to do about it, but there’s not enough room.”

“Tell her to put it on my tab.” VV repeated firmly. “That suit looks so nice on you Sebastian, let’s get it back in order.”

Sebastian sighed. “ _Yes_ , Mme. Velvet.”

“Don’t be sassy, you’ll just owe _me_ instead.” she said pleasantly. “Now go, make your arrangements and get your jacket back. Gigi’s been busy enough and you know how she gets about project orders.”

He snorted and nodded, closing the ledger and packing it and his notes away to leave Velvet’s rooms. Then it would be a quick jaunt to Mitnick to make the connection with the unfortunate and pretty fledgling. By tomorrow night, or the night after, he’d have his jacket back, and Velvet wouldn’t fuss at him about break up an ensemble.


	3. [Don't] Step Into the Light

Sebastian waited in the alley beside Isaac’s side door, the bulb from the door light still warm in his pocket. The old man should probably talk to an electrician about the wiring before his place caught fire; not that he’d take that kind of advice, even from a Nosferatu. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the brick wall beside him, instead settling on tapping his foot in an anxious regular rhythm. It had nothing to do with being able to see _her_ again, not at all; there were things he was supposed to be doing tonight, and the pretty new fledgling was late.

Said ‘pretty new fledgling’ was late because traffic was a beast, even after sundown. Genevieve (who preferred ‘Gene’ but was almost always called ‘Genie’ instead) bolted out of the cab with a dry-cleaning bag draped over her arm. She squinted down the alley, instincts on alert as the back end of it disappeared into darkness. Who met for a laundry pick-up in an alley like this?! Were all vampires just excessively melodramatic after some point in their lives? “Hello? Hello, is anyone there?” she called, hovering at the very obvious border between the light from the street and the darkness. Gene pulled out her phone to see if there was a message from the jacket’s owner.

His breath caught in his throat as the blue light from her phone lit her face and the yellow sodium lights lit her hair from behind. There should’ve been an ugly greenish shade falling on her somewhere, but _damned_ if the girl wasn’t thoroughly a Toreador! “I’m here!” Sebastian called, voice sounding unusually rough to his own ears. He tried to clear his throat on the sly, to knock some of the gravel out of it, and tried again. “I’m here. You’re late.” he added, unable to keep back _all_ of the irritation.

“I’m sorry about that.” Gene said immediately. “There was a meeting, it ran over time, then I hit traffic--well I didn’t hit traffic, the cab did--of course it did, otherwise this makes no sense.” She stopped, sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, let me try again--”

Sebastian put a hand over his mouth, pulling at his lips to keep from chuckling. “It’s…well not alright, but I won’t be upset; the lateness was out of your hands.” he said softly. “How…well, how are you?”

The mysterious voice in the dark alley was a surprisingly effective blend of roughness and culture; the diction crisp and enunciation clear with a rough tonal quality that wasn’t _entirely_ unpleasant to listen to thus far. “I…I don’t know how to answer that.” Gene replied with a little laugh. “It’s all pretty overwhelming.” she held up the dry-cleaning, running a hand down it to smooth out where it had been folded over her arm. “I um…I really want to thank you, for doing this? It was um…gosh, it was so much kindness and I couldn’t even thank you at the time.”

“You weren’t in a state to think, let alone thank. I promise, I take no offense.” Sebastian said gently.

Gene smiled. The voice in the alley was really very pleasant. “Still…oh, um, one of the buttons came off, when it was being cleaned? I sewed it back on, but I might have made a mess of it; they’ve always been my worst repair, but I’ll take that over trying to fix a zipper--I’m rambling. Sorry.” she interrupted herself; where the sudden urge to babble had bubbled up from, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was some of the ‘old life’ trying to seep back in; Circe had said things like that would happen, that the more unfamiliar the night was, the more she’d draw on old habits and routines to keep from losing her nerve (at least, that’s what she’d managed to say after a short game of Charades and a lot of scribbling in her tiny notebook).

“That’s alright, I appreciate the thought. I know someone who can take a look at it.” He said reassuringly. “Please, ‘ramble’ if you need to. I know the first nights are difficult, especially…well, given your circumstance.” Sebastian added tactfully. He watched her turn her head and bring a hand to where her heart once beat; it was a very theatrical move. “Don’t be embarrassed… _you_ didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know _that_ ,” Gene scoffed, “I’m just still feeling a little mortified. Haven’t felt so exposed on stage since that time I was in ‘ _Hair_ ’.” She shook her head. “Everything else was just…I guess vinegar in the dressing?” she smiled.

Sebastian blinked. “You were in _that_? Oh…that was such a scandal when it first came about!” he exclaimed. “This of course was years ago, I expect it doesn’t raise much of an eyebrow now.”

“It really doesn’t.” Gene said with a snort. “That was one of the few non-university productions I was in, when I was an undergrad.” she explained.

“You…were an actress, then?” He asked cautiously, the purpose for the meeting all but forgotten at this point. Now he was luxuriating in conversation while hiding in shadows, which in hindsight would strike him as immensely pathetic, but in the moment was a sneaky joy in the night. But Sebastian _did_ regret asking that question almost instantly as the light caught part of her sudden crestfallen expression.

“I…yes.” Gene smoothed the jacket again. “I got my first degree in Music, specifically vocal performance, with a minor in Theater. I was…I was going to school for a Masters in Vocal Performance when…” she trailed off.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I brought it up.” Sebastian said immediately.

“No, no, don’t be! _You_ didn’t do this to me. I’m…I’m even fairly certain you’d…well you would’ve warned me,instead of just…” Gene had no idea why she was so certain of that; after all, her conversation partner had been lurking in deep, dark shadow this entire time. But he _sounded_ nice, and mannerly, and her _Sire_ had effectively set the bar low enough to go through the center of the damn planet! (That she had to refer to him that way was salt in the wound, to boot: her _Sire_ , as if he’d granted her some major privilege instead of taking awful, bloody advantage of her!)

“I would have warned you, yes.” He replied firmly. “It’s not _our_ way, most of the time, to just launch at someone. There are things you have to know, things you have to be made aware of, before the Kiss. That you _should_ be made aware of, or else you come into this life like a fool and die like one too.”

There was a passionate edge to her mystery speaker that made Gene take a step forward. She wasn’t sure what they would look like; the jacket was oddly proportioned and had swaddled her almost to the point of modesty, but that wasn’t much to go on as far as figuring out what the owner _actually_ looked like in it.

Sebastian pressed against the wall of the alley, drawing the shadows closer without realizing it. “Stop! You need not come any closer.”

Gene frowned, realizing the toes of her shoes had crossed that border between light and dark. “Why are you hiding?”

“It’s…my nature now.” Sebastian replied cautiously. “It’s better this way.” he added, ignoring the incredibly skeptical expression the pretty new fledgling wore; visible even in dim light. “Trust me.”

“The last man to tell me to trust him turned me into a vampire, so that’s not exactly hitting the way you mean it to.” Gene warned. “Besides, how will you get your jacket if you don’t come at least a _little_ _bit_ closer?”

“ _I_ am not telling you, _I_ am asking you.” Sebastian sniffed. “Take it from someone who’s been this way _considerably_ longer than you have.”

“ _That_ isn’t that hard a thing to achieve,” she said, expression dropping from skeptical to mutinous, “and you didn’t answer my question.” Gene added, pressing the point. Now she _really_ wanted to see the face that went with the voice and the manners that were piquing her interest.

“Hold it out, and I’ll take it from you.” He said firmly. “You can stay right as you are, and I can stay right as I am, and we’ll part company on friendly terms.”

The authoritative note in his voice did _nothing_ to dispel her interest. In fact, it tickled her ears harder and the way her mystery speaker’s voice slipped into something close to the old Mid-Atlantic movie accent was peculiar in a pleasant way. “Alright…” she said, playing for time while an idea formed. “Can I at least have your name? You never did tell me when you set up this meeting.”

Sebastian shook his head at his own foolishness. The pretty new fledgling had been so forthcoming with hers, and he’d been dense enough to forget to do the same, even in text conversation? It was time to get his jacket and leave with his remaining dignity in tact. “Sebastian LaCroix.” he said carefully, pulling a business card out of his jacket and holding it out to her between two fingers. “This has my regular email, if you…” he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence without saying ‘need me’, which was far too vulnerable and close to the truth. “Regardless, I would appreciate if you kept it to yourself. My clan is guarded, and there are reasons for why we have the dead-line and dead drops. _Good_ reasons.”

Gene took the card slowly, turning a little to read it in slightly better lighting. It was simple and elegant; a black card embossed with silver with the name ‘Sebastian La Croix’ and ‘Accounting’ below it in neat letters. There were two emails on the back, with the second being obviously hand-written and therefore most likely the one he meant for her _not_ to share. “I guess you mean ‘don’t hand it over to the Prince’, right? I just want to be clear.”

“Or anyone, preferably.” Sebastian tempered. “I know the Malkavian gave you the key to the dead-line, but this is…more personal.” he cautioned.

Gene nodded, slipping the card into her bra; the suit she’d borrowed had no pockets anywhere on it, and sometimes a girl had to make do. “Got it. I promise, I won’t put it on the bathroom wall.” she teased.

He snorted. “Does anyone even read those anymore?”

“You know, I don’t know? But people keep writing on them, so I assume _someone’s_ reading it.” Gene replied. She started to hold the jacket out.

Sebastian saw her fumble with the plastic, but missed the sleight-of-hand movement that belied a camera app set to ready. He reached for his jacket and was blinded by a sudden flash of light; after that the world was a whirlwind of shrieks and crunching plastic and shifting shadows as he raced for the safety of the manhole behind Isaac’s stuffy jewelry shop. It wasn’t until he hit the water of the tunnel that he realized two things: that he didn’t have his jacket, _and_ there was a piece plastic embedded in his hand, just under the thumb. After picking it out and discarding it, Sebastian trudge back to the Warrens in a foul mood; he would send Mercurio to get his jacket back from the pretty, nosy fledgling--as a matter of pride! It was just as well that the meeting went sour; Gene was a different kind of danger that he didn’t want to deal with.

As Sebastian was making his way home, Gene was ambling back towards the cab in dazed confusion, after shaking the last broken bits of phone out of her hand; she was still trying to make sense of what she’d seen. A grayish complexion and a face _sort_ of like the old tabloid ‘Bat-Boy’, maybe? The hand that had wrapped around hers and crushed the cellphone had made more sense in that rushed look, though she was sure the fingers hadn’t _actually_ been that long. It wasn’t until she got into the cab that she realized she still had the jacket. “Oh _damn_ …”

“Some advice?” the cab driver rumbled. “Don’t. Do that. _Again_.” The warning was as flat and monotone as every other word he’d said so far (the very few that he’d said so far), but there was an aura of menace around them. “It was dangerous, and unkind.”

“I…I just thought they were being a bit melodramatic…I… _shit_. I’ll have to apologize, and I _still_ need to give this back.” Gene sighed and shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t suppose you know who that was?” She asked, hoping the driver understood it was a hybrid of who and what, and not just who that she was asking.

“One who was not allowed to keep his face after the Embrace. The Nosferatu: cursed to bear a monstrous nature outwardly while others are granted the privilege of hiding it beneath pretty smiles.” the cab driver replied a bit pointedly. “Theirs is a difficult lot among difficult lots, and you did that one a disservice.”

“I…I get that now. I’ll make it up to him, somehow.” Gene said, feeling very much like a scolded child. “He gave me his business card, I’ll just…have to resist curiosity next time.”

“Is that why you did as you did?” the driver asked.

Gene ducked her head, embarrassed. “A little…it’s just…his voice sounded _so_ nice. I wanted…I just wanted to see where it came from, you know?” She didn’t know a better way to explain it to herself, let alone the stoic cab driver. When he turned in his seat to look at her through dark lenses, instead of eyeing her reflection in the rear-view mirror, it surprised her. “I know it sounds weird, I just…I’m hearing things differently now, and he just sounded so very…” she shrugged. For a second, Gene _swore_ she saw the driver smile. But only for a second.

“When the nights are calmer, and you have made the apology necessary, seek out one of your own. You must control the driving urge, or be controlled by it.” And with that vaguely ominous statement, he turned around and started the engine.

Gene sat back against the seat with the dry-cleaning bag across her lap. _How_ she would make it up to ‘Sebastian La Croix, _Accountant’_ she didn’t know…but she would. A sincere apology to start, and then she’d figure it out from there.


End file.
